


1, 2, 3, take my hand and come with me

by no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Falling In Love, I promise its so much cuter than the tags leads you to believe, M/M, Peaches - Freeform, Sex on a Car, Top Thomas Jefferson, Weddings, and I like peaches, and im bored and sad, wrote this cause im in love with my best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation/pseuds/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation
Summary: Alexander has never had a peach before. Thomas decides that to be unacceptable. They go to find peaches. They end up doing a bit more.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	1, 2, 3, take my hand and come with me

Thomas is hiding. Not particularly  _ well,  _ of course, but he figures hiding in a corner is the best he can do in such a crowded area. 

God, he hates weddings. He hates the crowds. He hates the small talk. He hates the tiny dinner portions. He hates the anxiety that crawls on the back of his neck. And he hates the damn  _ black ties _ . 

He growls in annoyance, tugging at the stupid thing around his neck.

“Stop fussing with it, mon ami,” Lafayette reprimands, appearing out of the crowd to slap his hands away and straighten his tie. 

Thomas groans, batting at his hands. Lafayette glares at him, digging a thumb into his throat. “Do not fight me, Thomas, you know it will not end well.”

Thomas’s breath hitches. He tips his chin up subconsciously, staring into Lafayette’s piercing gaze. 

Lafayette cocks an eyebrow, squeezing his throat once, hard, before letting go and patting him on the chest. “Those days are long behind us, Thom.” He turns, pressing his back to the wall next to Thomas. “How are you liking the party? Beautiful reception, non?”

Thomas hums noncommittally, looking out over the reception. “It’s okay. Who’s getting married, again?”

Lafayette snorts, sipping at his champagne. “Monsieur Washington, Thomas. The  _ President  _ of the  _ United States _ . Your  _ boss _ .”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “I know that. I was joking. Relax.”

“Ah, Alexander!” Lafayette suddenly cries, waving at the short little gremlin walking by. Alexander’s head snaps up, looking around for who had called him. 

“Nooo,” Thomas groans, elbowing his friend in the ribs. “Not him, anyone but him,  _ literally  _ anyone else.”

Lafayette shushes him and yells for Alexander again, grinning as the man joins them, looking apprehensive. “Ma petite lionne, how do you like the party?”

“Too many people, not enough food,” Alexander grumbles, glaring out at the sea of bodies. “Too much love. And  _ small talk _ . God.”

Thomas blinks in surprise. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Alexander sneers and removes Lafayette’s champagne flute from the Frenchman's hands, downing it in one go and passing it back. Lafayette looks despairingly down at his empty glass and sighs. “I suppose I need another, hm? Au revoir.”

Thomas snickers after his retreating back. “I was thinking of doing that myself.”

Alexander shoots him a small, hesitant smile, and Thomas’s breath catches in his throat. “His fault for forgetting to forget to send our invitations.”

Thomas cocks his head. “I thought you sent them.”

“Mmm, no. I made them. Laf sent them.”

“Well, they’re…” Thomas trails off, thinking of the beautiful, elegant invitation card in his breast pocket. 

“The most beautiful things you’ve ever seen?” Alexander asks wryly. 

Thomas raises an eyebrow into his wine glass as he sips at it. “I was about to compliment you, but now I think that I can’t if I would like to save my reputation.”

“Oh, for sure,” Alexander says, nodding. “Go ahead. I’ll know what you mean.”

“The cards are, of course, the ugliest damn things I have ever seen,” Thomas says, smiling down at his coworker.

Alexander nods sagely. “The calligraphy is too fancy.”

“The ink is too nice. And -  _ really  _ \- magenta? What were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“It’s  _ pink _ .”

“Hamilton, I wear magenta on a daily basis, you really think I don’t know what it looks like?”

“Magenta doesn’t exist, actually,” Alexander says conversationally, as if he were discussing Achilles’s hamartia and not the existence of an entire color. 

“What the fuck? I wore a  _ magenta _ suit to work yesterday, and you’re trying to tell me it’s not real?”

“It’s not! It has no wavelength!”

Thomas snorts. “Oh, of course, I forgot colors depend on  _ wavelengths _ .”

“They do, oh my god, how did you pass fifth grade? Magenta doesn’t exist because when your brain sees it, it wants it to make logical sense, right? That’s how brains work. But if you mix the wavelengths of red and violet light, it averages out to be green, and your brain doesn’t like that, because it doesn’t make logical sense.”

“I’m not talking about  _ light,  _ I’m talking about  _ color _ , Hamilton.”

“Color is __ just our brain’s interpretations of wavelengths so we can distinguish different colors. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a ripe peach and a not-ripe peach!”

“…you squeeze them.”

“Shut up, you southern fuck, how am I supposed to know that?”

Thomas stares at him. “Hamilton…”

“What.” Alexander snaps, arms crossed and glaring.

“Have you never had a peach before?”

“Of course I have. Peach ice cream, peach yogurt, peach pie-“

“No, Alexander, a  _ real  _ peach. A whole one.”

“Uh…” Alexander cocks his head, thinking, making his hair fall into his face. Thomas’s fingers itch to fix it for him.

_ What the fuck?  _ Thomas shakes the impulsive urge away. Just his ADHD messing with him, that was all. He did  _ not _ want to fix Alexander’s hair, run his hands through it, stroke it softly, pull it as he pressed its owner into a wall—

_ Stop. _

“Huh.” Alexander swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “I guess I haven’t. Weird. Maybe when I was  _ really  _ little.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. We’re fixing that. C’mon.”

“What-  _ Jefferson _ !” Alexander yelps as Thomas grabs his hand and drags him along, out of the reception, out of the church, and out into the cool Virginian night. “Jefferson, what are we  _ doing _ ?!”

“We’re gonna go find some peaches, darlin’,” Thomas drawls, grinning at the other man. “C’mon, there’s a huge plantation, like, a five minute’s drive away.” 

Alexander squints at him. “I- you, the state secretary, are leaving your boss’s, the  _ President’s, _ wedding, half-way through, taking his treasury secretary with you, not telling anyone that we’re leaving, to go pick peaches in the middle of the night?”

“Well, when you put it that way… yes.”

Alexander sighs. “Jesus. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Thomas feels his face brighten. “So you’ll go?”

Alexander groans. “I’m gonna live to regret it, aren’t I.”

“Oh, but of course. Here, this is my car.” Thomas stops next to his sleek black sports car, gleaming in the light of the full moon. “If you get dirt on my seats they’ll never find your body.”

Alexander snorts, sinking into the soft, black leather interior as soon as Thomas unlocks it. “Huh. This is nice.”

Thomas grins, walking around to the other side and sliding in. “Heated seats, too.”

“Oh, thank god,” Alexander breathes, pressing the seat warmer button also immediately after Thomas turns the key in the ignition. “ _ Fuuuuck,  _ that’s good.”

Thomas glances at him out of the corner of his eye while he turns out of the church parking lot into the Charlestown traffic. “Should I give you two some time alone?”

Alexander nods seriously. “I think so. She seems a little… warmed up.”

Thomas groans at the pun while Alexander cackles manically. “ _ Never  _ say that again. She’s a lady, I’ll have you know.”

“What, ladies can’t get  _ warmed up _ ?”

Thomas shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas hesitates, glancing in his rearview mirror, hands tightening on the wheel until his knuckles hurt. “I… uh, I’m, well, I’m gay.”

“Oh.” Alexander nods slowly. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, James. And Lafayette. What, is that- is that it?”

“What do you mean,  _ is that it?  _ I’m bi, Thomas, not a hypocrite.”

Thomas looks over at him, mock surprised. “You’re  _ bi _ ? I would never have guessed!”

Alexander huffs a laugh, tipping his head to lean his forehead against the window. “Shut up.”

Thomas waves a hand in the air. “No, seriously! With your constant flirting with Laurens and Eliza, I would  _ seriously  _ never have guessed. Like gosh, who knew!”

Alexander laughs, then, full and bright and happy, and slaps at Thomas’s shoulder playfully. “Fuck off, dick.”

Thomas lets himself grin. They fade into a comfortable silence, the purr of the engine and the pavement under the tires the only sound until Thomas pulls onto a tiny, one-lane dirt road, pitch-black save for the light from the stars and the moon. “And we’re here?”

Alexander looks skeptically out the window. “This looks illegal. Is this illegal?"

Thomas snorts, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

Alexander’s eyes go wide. “You better fucking deny it! I can  _ not  _ be arrested on the President’s wedding night!”

“Relax, Hamilton, I’ve done this before. Get out of the car.”

Alexander grumbles a bit but did as told, shivering in the cool Virginian night. “Let’s get this over with.”

Thomas grins a bit, pulling a flashlight out of his backseat and slamming the door closed, pressing the lock button twice until his baby beeps happily. “C’mon.”

He leads Alexander into the rows of peach trees, the light from the flashlight casting shadows that danced and flickered. He pulls them to a stop next to one of his favorite trees, one that always bore the best peaches and whose shade spread wide and could be relaxed under on a hot summer day. “Here. Can you reach?”

Alexander glares at him. “No, I fucking cannot, you alien giant.”

Thomas laughs aloud, reaching out to tug on his ponytail. 

Alexander sputters, flapping his hands at him. “What the fuck!”

“Relax,” Thomas says. He reaches up and pulls a branch down, shining the flashlight at it so they could see the peaches. “Here, look. See this?” He points at one of the peaches, pale yellow and hard when he squeezed it. “This is an unripe one. You can tell ‘cause it feels hard when you squeeze it, like a rock. They’re edible, but they’re really dry and taste like shit.” 

Alexander reaches out and plucks the fruit, squeezing it in his palm. “Can you use them in pies and stuff? Does the ripeness matter?”

“Not as much when you’re cooking them, but still, everything tastes better with ripe peaches. Like this one.” Thomas grabs another peach, rolling it in his palm and nodding in satisfaction when the pads of his fingers sink into it a bit. “See how this one is orange instead of yellow? And it has a tiny bit of give when you press on it? That’s perfect. The really ripe ones aren’t as good for eating by themselves, same as the unripe ones.”

“Happy medium,” Alexander says. 

Thomas nods and hands the peach to him. “Here, try it.”

Alexander takes the peach, looking at it skeptically. 

Thomas chuckles. “Just bite into it.”

“It’s fuzzy. I thought you had to peel them?”

“I mean, if you want. Some people prefer it that way, but I like the skins on. It’s like an apple. Or a kiwi.”

Alexander shrugs, sinking his teeth into the peach and letting out a little “mph!” when juice drips down his chin. “You didn’t tell me it was juicy!”

“It’s a peach! I thought it was obvious!” Thomas laughs, grinning at Alexander as the shorter man scowls at him, goatee glistening with peach juice. “It’s good though, huh?”

Alexander rolls his eyes but nods, taking another bite and slurping at it to keep it from exploding on him again. “Yeah. Much better than the canned ones.”

“Agreed,” Thomas says. He plucks a few more good ones, cradling them in his hands as he sits down under the tree, back pressed to its trunk. He turns the flashlight off and pats the grass next to him. “Sit.”

Alexander sits, spreading his legs out in front of him next to Thomas’s.

“So,” he says through another mouthful of peach. “Gwash and Martha, huh?”

“Ha! Yeah. I like her, I think she’ll be good for him. She’s a force, that one.”

“Yeah,” Alexander agrees. “Think we’ll ever get married?”

“To each other?” Thomas pretends to shudder, even as the question makes his stomach flip. “Never. Disgusting. I can’t even stand you.”

“No, dumbass,” Alexander swats at his shoulder, laughing. “Just… in general, do you think we’ll ever get married?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to,” Thomas admits, staring at the half-eaten peach in his hand. “But it won’t be to a woman, not again, and my dad…”

“Again?”

“Uh, yeah. I was married a few years ago. Martha.”

“What happened?”

“She died. Cancer.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Thomas shrugs, suddenly sad. “S’alright. It was a while ago.”

“Still sucky.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure. What about you? Gonna get married?”

Alexander shrugs, tipping his head back to rest against the tree, staring up at the stars through its leaves. “No clue. I had a boyfriend in college, but we broke up. I haven’t heard from him in years. I would’ve married him, though, if he’d asked.”

Thomas looks at his coworker, taking in his face and his hair, lit up silver by the light of the moon. His eyes sparkle, the ever-present fire behind them dimmed to calm, gentle embers. His tongue flicks out to lick at his plump bottom lip, and Thomas finds he can't look away.

“You’re staring,” Alexander says bluntly, shaking Thomas from his thoughts. He turns his head slightly, meeting Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas draws his gaze away, looking down at his lap. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Alexander shivers slightly.

“Cold?”

“Nah.”

Thomas sits up, removing his coat and holding it out. “Here.”

Alexander stares at him, taking it slowly. “It’s cold, you don’t have to-“

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“…thanks,” Alexander murmurs, spreading the coat over his chest to use as a blanket. 

“Sure.” 

Alexander sighs gently, the line of his body warm where it presses against Thomas from hip to shoulder.

“Alexander…” Thomas whispers, staring down at the smaller man.

“Yeah?” Alexander whispers back, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth to suck on it.

Thomas huffs and, throwing caution to the wind, grabs his chin and kisses him.

Alexander gasps through his nose and freezes. Thomas presses his lips against Alexander’s harder, moving them until Alexander gets the message and starts to kiss him back. Thomas relaxes into him, relieved, and slides the hand holding Alexander’s chin along his jaw and into his hair, grasping it tight and tugging until he gasps, mouth opening so Thomas can slide his tongue between his lips. Alexander moans, high and needy, grasping at Thomas’s wide shoulders as the kiss goes on.

Eventually, they have to pull back for air, and Thomas rests his forehead against Alexander’s, panting. “Fuck.”

Alexander nods in agreement. “Jefferson-“

“Thomas.”

“What?”

“Call me Thomas,” he breathes. “Please.”

“Thomas,” Alexander says.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

Alexander groans, tugging at one of his curls. “Kiss me again.”

Thomas does, pressing their lips together until Alexander moans and leans into him. He bites down on Thomas’s bottom lip, making Thomas groan low in the back of his throat.

Alexander is one  _ hell  _ of a kisser, leaving Thomas breathless until he has to pull back. But Alexander doesn't stop, just slings a leg up to straddle Thomas’s lap, moving to kiss at his jaw and down his throat, licking and biting at the hot, feverish skin. He seems to especially like Thomas’s pulse point, sucking at it until he moans. 

“Fuck, Alex,” Thomas gasps, hands wrapping around the smaller man’s hips. “ _ Fuck _ .”

“Yeah, baby?” Alexander teases, grinning as he scrapes his teeth over Thomas’s jaw.

“ _ Kiss me _ , please, c’mon,” Thomas pleads, squeezing his hips.

“Hmm, do you deserve it, though?” Alexander wonders. He grinds his hips down into Thomas’s, the line of his cock already hard and prominent through those well-fitting suit pants. 

“Oh, god.” Thomas tilts his head back against the peach tree, struggling to breathe. “My car, please, c’mon,  _ fuck _ .”

“Oh? What for?”

“So I can fuck you over the hood, what do you  _ think _ ,” Thomas growls in Alexander’s ear, reaching up again to pull the hairband out of his hair and fist his hand in it, pulling hard.

Alexander moans, loud and long, and bites at his lip, nodding as best he can with Thomas pulling his head back. “ _ Yeah _ , yeah, please.”

Thomas wraps his hands under Alexander’s thighs, standing and pulling the smaller man with him. Alexander squeaks in surprise, then laughs and wraps his legs around Thomas’s waist, kissing him again. Thomas starts walking back to the car, kissing Alexander hungrily as he goes. 

“Fuck, you’re so strong,” Alexander groans, squeezing his thighs around Thomas’s waist to dig the heels of his dress shoes into his back. 

“You’re just tiny,” Thomas teases, smiling. Alexander scowls and bites his shoulder through his shirt in retaliation. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Thomas growls. He reaches his car and sets Alexander on the hood, leaning over him until he's forced to lay back on the metal, still warm from the drive. 

“Fuck me,” Alexander begs, eyes wide and pleading as he tugs at Thomas’s tie. 

“Hold on, I gotta-“ Thomas pulls back, intending to grab lube from the glovebox, but Alexander just pulls him back down by his tie.

“I got it, front right pocket,” Alexander whispers, kissing at his throat again and making no move to help. 

“Dirty whore,” Thomas says, reaching into Alexander’s pants pocket, ignoring the bottle of lube for a second, pretending to dig around for it but really just grinding the heel of his palm into Alexander’s cock, hard and leaking, until the smaller man grits out an impatient “hurry up, motherfucker” and Thomas complies, pulling the lube out of his pocket and flipping Alexander onto his stomach. 

“Want me to fuck you, darlin’?” Thomas asks, pressing his chest to Alexander’s back and reaching for the other man’s pants, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees in one stroke, and Alexander gasps, cock suddenly pressed against hot, smooth metal. Thomas slicks up his fingers with the lube and shoves two into Alexander’s hole unceremoniously, then leans down until his lips are pressed against the shell of Alexander’s ear and growls, “If you make a mess on my car, there’s gonna be hell to pay, understand?”

Alexander nods, panting, pressing his ass back and crying out into the night when Thomas finds his prostate and digs his fingers into it punishingly.

“I said,  _ do you understand _ .”

“ _ Fuck _ , yes, I understand!” Alexander sobs. “Please, please, just  _ fuck me _ , I won’t, I promise, Thomas,  _ please _ !”

“Good boy,” Thomas praises him, withdrawing his fingers to pull his dick out his pants and fist lube over it, and Alexander whimpers at the praise and at being left empty and presses his ass back against him. Thomas chuckles at his eagerness and leans down to coo in his ear, slipping the head of his cock into his hole as he does. “Eager little slut, begging me to fuck you over the hood of my car like some cheap whore, huh? Bet you’d let me do this anywhere I wanted,  _ fuck,  _ Alex, you’re so good, so good for me, darlin’.”

He lets his accent slip out, drawing his words out nice and slow so they drip like molasses off of his tongue into Alexander’s ear while the man under him whines pathetically. They both groan when Thomas bottoms out inside him, Alexander’s hole hot and tight around his long, thick cock. 

“Okay?” Thomas asks, staying still as Alexander pants with the effort of taking him.

“You’re so  _ big _ ,” Alexander groans, wiggling his hips slightly and moaning when it rubs Thomas’s cock into his prostate. “Oh, god, please move.”

Thomas does, pulling back and thrusting in, biting his lip as he does, sinking down until he can press his mouth to the side of Alexander’s throat and leave marks there, biting and sucking hard until Alexander moans wantonly. 

Thomas comes much sooner than he wanted to and groans into Alexander’s ear, fucking him through it until Alexander is shaking with the effort of holding back his own orgasm.

“Oh, good boy,” Thomas coos when he realizes, then flips Alexander on his back and wraps a hand around his cock and jerks him off relentlessly until he sobs and comes in his fist, sticky white ropes of come shooting over their still-clothed chests.

Some of it gets on the car’s glossy back paint, and Thomas scowls and forces Alexander to his knees and makes him lick it up as a punishment. 

After, they strip completely, tossing their soiled clothes in the front seat and curling up together naked in the back. There’s barely enough room and Thomas has to turn the car on to put on some music and blast the heat when Alexander starts shivering, but they make it work.

“I know I just fucked your brains out on my car, but… be my boyfriend?” Thomas asks, stroking a hand down the other man’s spine. 

Alexander hums contentedly and snuggles further into his chest, ear resting over his heart. “Yes, please.”

Thomas grins in relief and leans down to kiss him, but this time it’s sweet and slow instead of hot and rough.

Alexander pulls back suddenly, brow furrowed. “Wait.”

Thomas freezes.

“No, it’s not that,” Alexander reassures, seeing the look on his face. “We just left your coat. And the flashlight. What if someone finds it and calls the cops?”

Thomas stares at him for a second before he cracks up laughing, tilting his head back to rest on the cool window while his shoulders shake with his laughs.

“Thomas, shut up, it’s not  _ funny _ ,” Alexander hisses, eyes blazing. “We could get arrested!”

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so fuckin’ funny,” Thomas wheezes, kissing him again, laughing against his lips. “I own the place, dipshit.”

Alexander stares at him. “What?”

Thomas nods, still grinning. “It’s my property.  _ This _ is Monticello. You think I’d take you trespassing and then fuck you over my car on someone else’s property?”

“You fucking  _ dick _ .”

James and Lafayette watch with unsurprised eyes when Alexander and Thomas enter the office together next Monday, bickering contentedly with hickies covering both their throats.

“About time,” James says.

“Mmm, oui,” Lafayette replies. He sets the file he’s carrying on James’s desk. “From monsieur Adams.”

“Oh, finally, I’ve been waiting for a week,” James sighs, relieved.

Lafayette nods. “Dinner tonight?”

“Six o’clock? The Italian place with the linguine?” 

“Bien.” Lafayette ducks his head to kiss him and leaves. As he passes Alexander and Thomas, he congratulates them. 

They look happy. 


End file.
